


Freelancer Powers Activate

by Espileon707



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bad Flirting, Crack, Mentions of Orgies, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of incest, Multi, Near Orgies, Nudity, RvB Big Bang, Sloppy Make-out, Strip-teases, cursing, magical girl transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espileon707/pseuds/Espileon707
Summary: Wash recounts a mission from his Project Freelancer days in all of its absurd madness, and really it was some kind of weeaboo shit show. Being a Magical Girl sucked.





	

Wash groaned. It wasn’t his “What did the Reds and Blues do this time?” groan, nor was it the “Tucker stop flirting with everything that breathes I’m standing right here” groan, or even the “Caboose needs his naptime story now?!” groan. This was the “You won’t stop bugging me” groan and it was directed at none other than Grif.

“Why are you so insistent that I explain myself?” Wash hissed, his voice low as to better hear his internal alarms, just in case anyone decided to brave the mess Hall with Grif still inside.

“Because that sort of shit isn’t normal you fuck.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Wash said, and Griff rolled his eyes, his orange helmet had been taken for repairs after the storming of the Staff of Charon, so the Hawaiian man was Helmetless, which was no doubt giving Simmons a heart attack. Grif stood resolute before Wash, glaring at the older man with a ferocity that Was could only assume ever showed itself when they had fought the Meta on Sidewinder.

“Oh yeah? I have video feed of you getting swallowed by some fucked up light and turning into some shitty anime Magical girl, so start talking fucktard!” Wash winced at Grif’s demands.

“Fuck. You really do record everything!”

“My Meds may make life easier but I am still gonna have my own coping mechanisms,”

“Nice use of vocabulary there Grif.” Wash smirked under his helmet as Grif flipped him off.

“Fuck you, but seriously, spill. Or I show Tucker your little trick and then you will never hear the end of it!” Wash groaned in defeat.

“Fine! Just… Do not bug Carolina about this.”

“Why would I? I’m not suicidal dude.” Grif insisted, but Wash really doubted the truth of the statement.

“Right. You may want to sit down for this. It’s a long and frankly stupid story.” Grif sat down looking expectantly at Wash. Wash sucked in a breath as he sat across from Grif, bracing for the flood of awful memories to come.

“The Mission was simple, go investigate one of our next target’s offices for any intel we would need to ensure our next mission’s success. This was just before the AI were introduced, and before Maine lost his voice. We had gone to the building and done our sweep, but then we met some resistance. It was during the ensuring fight that things got… messy and the mission took a turn for the fucking stupid.”

“What did you do?” Grif asked and Wash scoffed.

“Why do you assume it was my fault?”

“I’ve heard Carolina’s stories; you were the guy who kept fucking up!”

“I-… Ok you have a point.”

“Right so, what did you do?” Wash huffed.

“I may have jumped out of cover to save a cat.”

“What the fuck dude?”

“Hey, turns out it wasn’t a cat and the damn thing was using some kind of fucked up chemical to influence people around it into saving it. Honestly that little fuck is the reason for this whole mess!”

“But you still grabbed it!”

“I was drugged! By the magic cat thing!” Wash sighed. “Look just listen ok? The entire event was dubbed a White-ops by those involved so you won’t find any other source of the story. Just hold off your disbelief until the end ok?”

“Fine, so what happened after you were brainwashed into saving a Not-Cat?”

“Well…”

 

**Years Ago Before the Fall of Project Freelancer**

 

Wash hissed as a sharp pain shot through his shoulders and head. What the hell had he been thinking? Diving out of cover to save a single cat! Or…

Wash thought back while he waited for his helmet’s video feed to come back online. Had it been a cat? It had been feline shaped, sure, but it had two tails with little…. Uh… hearts on the end on them? And it had been as white as paper and not at all furry looking. Why had he jumped out into a hail of bullets for some monstrous abomination?

“Dear Heroes we need your aid!” And now there were voices in his head, great, Wash was sure he was going to need extra sessions with the Counselor when he was released from medical. The voice was that of an overly sweet woman, the pitch was too high and dripping with what Wash could only call Southern Hospitality, the kind Florida commonly used to scare everyone, but this tone seemed genuine. And that made it all the more grating.

“Please young hero, you must save us from evil!”

Wash still did not respond, the voice was too loud and it drowned out his internal alarms and systems updates as his suit rebooted. If that didn’t set Wash enough on edge the fact that the voice seemed to come from inside his own head, really did. Then there was the feeling of floating, or was it falling? It felt like he was both floating in space and falling through the sky at the same time. His body held weight, yet that weight was absent. God Wash did not want to deal with this right now.

Then in an instant, Wash wished he was still float-falling as he made sudden impact with the ground. As he struck the ground Wash’s suit finished rebooting, giving him video and audio feed once more, but Wash did not get the chance to check his surrounding before the cat-monster thing he had saved jumped in his face. 

“Young Hero you must hurry! The enemy is- who are you? Where are the chosen ones, the young girls?” Wash sputtered as the sickening sweet voice he had been hearing sprang from the cat thing’s mouth.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you? No! Better question! Who the fuck made you and what do they want?” Wash shouted, his hands fumbling as he blindly looked for his gun.

“I am Amora, and I- oh no!” The monster, apparently named Amora, looked into the distance over the… pink sand dunes? Fucking Hell Wash was not ready for this level of bullshit! “The enemy is here, and our heroes are not!”

“What are you talking about?” Wash demanded as Amora jumped off of him and shook her head. Her heart tipped tails began to glow a soft… pink, goddamnit, and she closed her purple eyes. She quickly nodded and sighed.

“It seems I got one of our chosen ones after all. Now if you want to live you will repeat after me!”

“What the hell are you blabbering about? I have a gu-“

“Do not be difficult the enemy is upon us, repeat after me, “Pretty Parasol Power”!”

There was a beat, Wash could hear a distant buzzing grow louder, but he stared at the creature.

“Fuck no!”

“Why not?” Amora demanded.

“Because it’s stupid and doesn’t do shit! Just let me find my gun and we’ll be all good!” Amora jumped back, watching Wash with fear and surprise.

“A what? No chosen one ever wields such an evil weapon! It’s unheard of!”

“Yeah well, welcome to the military! Now where is it?” Wash stood up and began to search the pink (ugh) sand for his rifle as the buzzing grew louder.

“There is no time! You must say the words!”

“Look, I’m probably in a medical induced coma at this point and honestly I really would rather have a gun than trust some hallucination’s words!”

“But your weapons will do no damage here! They are too evil to harm our enemies!”

 

**In the present**

 

“Jesus fuck dude, don’t tell me you actually listened to the fucking thing!” Wash buried his head in his hands.

“To this day I blame the chemical brainwashing and the sand from my decision to listen.”

“Jesus fuck.”

 

**Back in the Pink Desert**

 

Wash stared down at Amora, his brain scrambling to find a coherent thought, but instead all he found was panic as the buzzing got far too loud and a giant wasp beast hurled itself towards him.

“Fuck!”

“Say the words hero!” Amora shouted, and Wash, unable to think of anything other than his impending death via massive wasp, obeyed.

“Uh… Uh… PrettyParasolPower!”

Wash decided, in the next few seconds, that he would never again agree to bondage. As he spoke those words, a bright white light filled his vision and he found himself in some kind of tripped out, glitter infested dreamscape. An underwhelming heavenly choir sang the only words they knew, those being Ah and Ooh, as Wash felt his body and limbs get pulled about in a dance like fashion. As he was pulled in the mockery of a dance ribbons flew out from nowhere and removed all of the armor he wore from the neck down. Wash then felt the ribbons wrap around him and with a squeak and a flash formed some form of clothing. With the light messing with his video feed he couldn’t see what he was wearing only that it was not his armor.

Then the ribbons tried to take his helmet. Up until this point Wash had been a stunned by-stander in the process but the moment the ribbons brushed his helmet he snapped back into fight mode. He reached up, noticing a pair of dainty purple gloves with yellow ribbons tied around his arms, and grabbed the ribbons with all his might. As they struggled to get to his head Wash fought back, tossing and ripping the ribbons of light with a great desperation, until after several minutes, the ribbons gave in and moved on to form some form of staff. Before Wash could get a fix on what was in his hands the light faded and Wash was left standing in the desert, suddenly aware of wind that was rushing around him.

“What the- Oof!” Wash went flying backwards as the giant wasp monster tackled him to the ground. Giant pincers poking out of what Wash assumed was the beasts mouth snapped a bit too close to his face.

“No what you have transformed use your weapon!” Amora yelled.

“What weapon?”

“The parasol!” Wash paused as he kicked the beast off of him and stood up. Wordlessly he looked down to the item in his hands, and sure enough it was Pink, patterned parasol with strings of beads hanging on the edges. Wash opened the thing without a word and gaped at the parasol.

“How the fuck is this a weapon?” Wash screamed as the wasp monster regain its composure.

“It channels the natural pure energy in your heart into the world and turns it into magic, just focus on the goodness within you and you shall prevail!”

Wash paused once more, staring dumbly at Amora.

“What the fuck? Oh shit nope!” Wash whirled around and clocked the Wasp in the mouth pincer things, with the parasol. The monster flipped backwards through the air as Wash huffed.

“What are you doing?!” Amora shouted.

“I am not going to do some lovey dovey bullshit! An umbrella is not a weapon!”

“But you must!”

 

**Present day**

 

“Fucking hell, did you?” Grif asked, and Wash did not answer. Grif slammed his head onto the table. “Jesus dude, what the hell were you on?”

“I don’t know but I never want to take it ever again.”

 

**Back in the Pink Land with the Umbrella**

 

Wash growled as his mind went blank once more. He whirled around to face the monster, pointed the parasol at it and shouted.

“Purifying Parasol!” The parasol opened and a white light shot out at the monster who screamed as the light disintegrated it into dust. Amora rushed over to Wash and began to congratulate him, but Wash was a bit too preoccupied with inspecting himself.

“What. The fuck am I wearing?”

“Is there a problem dear Hero?” Amora asked, confused.

Wash gestured at himself. He wore a v-neck sleevless pink dress that stopped at his upper thighs. The skirt was loin-cloth like and had yellow ribbons adorning it and a grey and purple corset with what Wash could only describe as an ass cape attached to it. It was a Pink and purple color scheme with far too many loose ribbons and the gloves he saw earlier. It was a small miracle that he still had his helmet on.

“Why am I dressed like some Pedophiles wet dream?”

“I, I beg your pardon?” Amora stuttered.

“I look like some kind of Slut at a specialty club for freaks who want to fuck little kids!” Amora reeled back.

“I dare say! What is wrong?”

“What is wrong? What is wrong?” Wash screamed his panic and anger rising and with no Maine to settle him down, it was a dangerous combo. “I’m in a fucking pink desert dressed in a Slutty Halloween costume and apparently just fired a beam of ‘goodness’ at a giant fucking wasp! I’m not fucking dealing with this shit!”

“But you must! You are one of our Princess Protectors!”

Wash froze.

“Your What?”

Wash come in! Do you read?

South? Oh thank God!

Wash praised whatever deity that was fucking with him that his radio seemed to still be entirely functional, and that South had managed to contact him at just the right time.

Wash are you ok? Where are you?”

I’m ok, not great, but ok. I don’t really know how to describe where I am it’s not exactly…

It’s a Pink desert isn’t it?

Fucking Hell not you to South!

Stay where you are, I’m with the others. We’ll come find you at your location.

I’m in trouble aren’t I?

Was that even a question?

 

**Present Day**

 

“Alright so what? You go Magical girl and find your team, what the hell happened?’

“I met up with South and the other shortly thereafter. Turns out I wasn’t the only one who had a new wardrobe.”  
…

“Fuck.”

 

**Back in Time in the Fucking Pink Desert**

 

“…Fuck not you guys to!” Wash moaned as he took in the rest of his team. It seemed they all had undergone the same sort of make-over he had, though they all looked a bit different.

Starting with Florida, who looked like he had walked out of some history text book on the 1960’s. His tan skin seemed to glow like he did after a rousing day of sex with whomever he had managed to snag after a difficult mission. His black hair was long, and was held up in a ponytail with a tie-dyed scrunchie. He wore what looked like a long flowing skirt with polka-dots? Or was it stripes? Fuck the pattern was changing on him! Well that was gonna cause some problems! And his crop-top was also changing colors. Leave it to Florida to have the ever shifting color scheme. The Interrogation Expert was also bare foot save the aqua, or was ti teal? Ribbons that wound around his ankles and neck, and had what looked like some kind of funky guitar on his back.

Then there was South who was dressed from head to toe in bright reds and oranges. Her outfit was what could be described as work-out bra and spandex shorts/panty combo, with what appeared to be a strange orange mesh material covering her mid-drift. Her short blonde hair still had her pink frosted tips, but now they were slightly darker, and an orange ribbon sat uselessly on her head. Needless to say South was rocking the look, but looked none too pleased by the lack of armor.

Now Wyoming, Wash decided Wyoming might have it the worst, possibly second only to North. Wyoming was wearing a sheer Cocktail dress, sleeveless and glittery purple cocktail dress. The left side had one of those tasteful slits but rather than stopping at the knee it went all the way up to his hips. He wore Opera Gloves that were a more maroon color than purple. His magnificent mustache was still in place but his usual sniper rifle had been replaced with a small clutch purse that he gripped like a police baton. Wash praised the power that were for the mustache, for he never again wanted to see the wrath that Wyoming and Florida would bring should that caterpillar ever get shaved again.

Next was Carolina, and boy was she pissed. Looking over her Wash had to agree with her anger, but damn if the power that were did not get a decent aesthetic! Her color scheme was dark blues and silver, but she wore even less that Wash did, and unlike South, did not have the decency of shorts. Carolina wore what looked to be the shittiest bathing suit top ever, with minimal support and a piece of string holding it together. and a blue mini skirt with wave like designs on the edge. She wore several articles of shark tooth jewelry, including bracelets made of shark’s teeth that flapped wildly as she moved, and bands on her upper arms made of the same teeth.

Then there was North. Poor North looked like he had been dragged straight out of that early 2010’s film, the one about the princess and the snow. He wore an Icey blue dress that fell to his upper thighs and for some ungodly reason had a boob window. He wore a mesh like cape that covered his arms and shoulders and fell to his lower calves. Snowflakes and ribbons adorned his body and his heels looked entirely uncomfortable. Then again everyone was wearing heels and they all looked so uncomfortable. Wyoming’s had to be the worse seeing how they were Stiletto’s and about eight inches high. But North looked placid, not in the sense of acceptance, but in the sense that he was blatantly ignoring the fact that he had a wardrobe change and the fact that his heart was exposed along with his fabulous pecks. And the tiara on his head shimmered like ice.

And there was York, giddily poking at his own outfit like some kind of cosplaying school kid. He wore lots of green, his own dress was short and poofy in the skirt with horseshoes surrounding the green lacy trim and he held a rabbit’s foot in his hand. Attached to his head were two shamrock clips with green ribbon curling off of them away from his head like the stupidest pigtails ever. But York looked excited by his wardrobe, he even danced around reveling in his heels.

And finally there was Maine. Oh God Maine. If Wash wasn’t currently having a panic attack he might have been a little bit turned on by Maine’s attire. Maine had one a V-neck dress that fell to his mid thighs. It was a simple dress with little to it other than the snow leopard print design and the fur trim around the neck line and skirt. He wore thin looking stockings with smiling bears that seemed to peek out from some invisible bush on his knees. Wash could see his prosthetic leg pinching the fabric and winced, Maine would be complaining about that for some time but damn if his outfit did not compliment his magnificent ass.

“What the fuck?” Was the best response Wash could muster to the people before him. Really words were lost a long time ago but now they had just decided to take the nope train to Fuck That-Ville so really it sounded more like, “Wah? Fugg?”

“We’d like to know that too.” South hissed. “And why the fuck do you get to keep your helmet?”

“Fought.” Wash hissed, unable to fully form a sentence.

“Another fire-fight?” Florida asked, his voice too chipper to actually be real.

“No. Uh… The uh…” Wash snapped his fingers as the words danced away from him.

“Ribbons.” Maine grumbled and Wash snapped and pointed to him.

“Yeah! Those! Fought the ribbon things!”

“Forget that, Wash explain yourself!” Carolina snapped glaring daggers at Wash who slinked back a bit behind Maine.

“I-I…”

“Oh Good you are all together!” Amora’s voice trickled into the circle of freelancers and all eyes snapped to her. “Now that you heroes are once more together we can get to work On defeating the forces of evil!”

There was a beat of silence.

“Wash.”

“Yes?” Wash said peering warily at Florida.

“Is this not the cat you tried to save?”

“…Maybe? I think?”

“You think?” South muttered. “Jesus Wash did you hit your head or something?”

“I don’t know?”

“Wash’s possible visit to medical aside, yeah that is definitely the cat that he saved. Though it looks less like a cat and more like some kind of Science experiment gone wrong.” York said. Amora gasped.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re excused.” Wyoming said which brought a chuckle from the group.

“What kind of disrespectful heroes are you!” Amora screeched. “Never before have we had such rude heroes!”

The freelancers stared at Amora in silence before North’s eyes widened and he muttered.

“You did this.”

“What?” Carolina asked, her voice low.

“This thing put us in these. Like in those stupid 21st century cartoons.” North turned to Amora, emotionless and firm. It gave Wash chills. Whether those chills was a result of his brain craving North’s ass in that moment or fear would be lost to history. “I’m guessing that we can’t go home until we finish your mission?”

“That is correct. You all were chosen to save this kingdom from the forces of Evil and will not be able to return home until you do.” Amora said, ruffling up what could be called fur, if fur grew in massive square sheets.

“Fuck so what we all got drafted again?” York hissed. “I fucking hate drafts!”

“Yeah because you can’t weasel your way out of those old Chap.” Wyoming quipped.

“Hey, not all of us wanted to sign up!”

“Yeah some of us had to be dragged kicking and screaming into Boot Camp by the Drill Instructor.” South quipped catching Wash’s eyes. Wash turned away muttering nonsense sounds, to which Maine decided to pat his head for.

 

**Present day**

 

“So were you really dragged into the Army by the Drill Instructor?”

“I’m not answering that Grif.”

“Ha! I’m not the only one then! Suck it Simmons!”

“I-… Wait you to?”

“Fuck yeah! They broke into my house and everything! Kai knocked one of the fucker out with a chair!”

“… We’ll swap recruitment stories later.”

 

**Back in Time**

 

“Oddities aside you all are going to have to help us win this battle or else you will be stuck here forever.” Amora stated, quite calmly for a tiny cat thing surrounded by several very strong and armed Soldiers. “It is simply the rules and morals of the war.”

“Oh Hun.” Florida cooed picking up Amora who began to purr a little in his arms as he stroked him. Only to squeal as the honey sweet words began to ooze venom. “I don’t think you’ve fought a single battle.”

“There are no rules!” York shouted. “And Morals? What Morals? We’re Military, we don’t have morals!”

“Not good. Ones.” Maine huffed, tugging a little at the edge of his skirt in an attempt to free it from the joints of his prosthetic leg.

“That’s preposterous! War always has rules!” Amora shouted.

“Oh? Like what you little freak?” South said, crossing her arms and glaring daggers at Amora in chorus with Carolina and Wyoming.

If this had happened back at base Wash would have assumed they were going to be entering one of their rooms and not leaving till morning, but they weren’t so Wash stared at the terrifying women and the man who made glitter look dangerous and tried to piece together if they needed to bang or not.

“No blood may be spilt by the Princess Protectors.”

“That’s fucking Bullshit!” Wash screamed.

“I agree how the hell are we supposed to fight? I mean, a solid punch can break a nose.” York said.

“You would know.” North said with a tiny smirk. York laughed nervously.

“Yeah…”

“Rule number two, no guns shall be wielded by the Princess Protectors.” Amora continued ignoring the babble. She squeaked as Florida squeezed her, his fingers digging into her ribs.

“Now, I want you to repeat that slowly and clearly, you precious little angel you.” Florida sang. “We can’t shoot, or draw blood?”

“Y-yes…”

“Well that is just unfortunate don’t you think? I’m mighty inclined to simply say that that’s plum unfair, would you sweetheart?” Florida turned to York, Wash and Maine.

“Yeah.” Maine grumbled, his voice deepening dangerously. “Very.”

Amora gasped as Maine, and the other Freelancers all pulled out their guns and screamed.

“What are you doing?”

“Well it seems the solution to this is simple when you think about it! You brought us here, quite against our will and now you insist we fight for you without the tools of our trade? Well there are several problems with that!” Florida exclaimed tossing Amora to North who grabbed her out of the air.

“One, you took us in the middle of a mission. Now we go off comm often enough that we can get away with one or two hours of radio silence but fighting a war without alerting our commanding officers will cause too much silence. Two, I’m not about to let some tiny bug that thinks it’s in charge take my weapons from me or my teammates! Are we all in agreement?”

“Aye!” The chorus was loud in the desert and Amora swallowed.

“I had hoped I would never have to do this.” Amora hissed as her tails glowed.

Suddenly the Freelancer’s weapons were gone, there was searing pain running up Wash’s arms. Peering down Wash screeched as a chain of tiny interlocked hearts and flowers burned into his skin, like the most metal of little Girl’s fake tattoos. Amora dropped into the sand with a plunk, and the freelancers all whirled around to her once the burning ceased.

“What was that?!” South shouted, rushing Amora. “You little-Agh!”

South bounced backwards, having hit some kind of invisible wall as she had approached Amora who purred and preened.

“I have placed a Gease upon all of you. You cannot harm me and you must fight this war on out terms, until I have released you from service. We have only ever had to employ this with previous girls once and that was after they had been brainwashed by the enemy!” Amora hissed. “Now. I would like to finish explaining everything to you so that perhaps we can finish this war once and for all.”

When no one spoke Amora Continued.

“Right, as you may be aware, you are no longer in your world. This plane is where the forces of Good and Evil reside and have been at war since the dawn of time. This world is what controls the outcomes of key events in your world. How you chose to fight the enemy will affect your world and the events on it. It is your jobs as Princess Protectors to ensure that good triumphs over evil. Each of you has a power that you must use to fight and defeat evil.”

“Right Ok and when do we get to go home?” Wash asked. “Cause I don’t think I heard anything about a… a… word.”

“End?” York supplied.

“Yeah! An end to this. And if I recall, you mentioned trying to take a couple of young girls to fight this damned war for you what the fuck is that about?”

“What?!”

 

**Present time**

 

“What?! They were kidnapping kids?”

“Yeah, it was a fucking mess.” Wash admitted.

“So what happened next? Not that I don’t like hearing about the almighty freelancers sitting on their asses and bickering, I want to hear what actually happened and how you got out.”

“Well. Everyone went off on the monster thing,”

“Amora?”

“We do not speak its name lest we invoke its appearance.”

“Fine by me dude.”

“But because of that stupid wall, force field thing we couldn’t even so much as poke her. So after a while of South screeching profanity along with some very graphic promises of a slow and painful death from Florida, Carolina, and North we just sort of accepted that we had to play by their rules.”

“Yeah? So you guys did the whole, magic powers bullshit?”

“Yes, but really in the end we didn’t do it for long. We fought one battle with our “powers” then decided to take things a little more… Our way.”

“Alright, so let’s start with your first big battle scene thing, how’d that go?”

“We had moved locations to a forested area, we were informed that in order to leave we had to take back some castle that was on the other side of the continent we were on. We were about a third of the way there when we were attacked.”

 

**Back in time**

 

Wash screamed as he furiously whacked at the distorted hell beast with his umbrella. Behind him Maine was furiously swiping at another beast with what were supposed to be stylized and cutesy claws. They were tiny and had ridiculous nail art on them, and somehow it worked. Maine was hitting the damn thing, but it wasn’t staying down! While Wash and Maine tried to take down the burning and horrific creatures before them, Wyoming was sputtering very un-elegant curses as he tried and failed to fight in his too tall heels and Jessica Rabbit cocktail dress.

There was a lovely moment, as Wyoming swung his, apparently Iron, clutch purse at a beast, over shot the hit, and fell face first into North who was also desperately trying to freeze a monster. Wyoming, with his face squarely in North’s chest spoke some, muffled and snarky comment to which North’s only response was to shrug and shout.

“You can enjoy my chest later, preferably with nothing else on it!” Before turning around to face down his monster, stumbling a little as he did, leaving Wyoming to crash into the ground, his dress springing up to reveal a pair of briefs covered in smiley faces.

Florida hummed as he danced through a small crowd of monsters with ease. Lacking shoes, he was at least able to move, but his attacks were… Random. One second he’d be swinging the strange guitar like an axe, the next his voice was causing a wide variety of trouble. Everything from sonic damage screeches, to High inducing lullabies, it seemed Florida was just going with the flow. But really he was pissed, and slowly planning the inevitable death of the monster that had dragged them there.

Carolina and South were the only ones really making any progress in their fights. Apparently, South had control over fire, and could produce her own, which was leading to some amazing smells coming from the desecrated enemies. She stumbled a bit in her heels but overall kept her balance. Carolina stumbled non-stop, unable to keep her feet on the forest floor and in heels. She fought the enemies with shark tooth gantlets, that seemed to tear through anything, yet never drew blood. In fact, none of them ever drew blood, which was getting really uncomfortable for Wash.

What kind of weapons didn’t draw blood? Unnatural ones was what!

But ah yes, York was nearly forgotten. Wash groaned as a mad cackling grew louder, and louder and York shot by grinning like a mad man as a hoard of these beast tried, and failed to tail him. He moved so well in his ridiculous heels and no matter what happened he seemed to always be one step ahead of the beasts. It was like he had all the luck in the world!

After a solid forty minutes of screaming, stumbling and trying to fight the beasts, Wash finally slunk down next to an exhausted Maine, who was picking pieces of his stockings out of his prosthetic, and groaned.

“I knew it’d rip, need some help?” Maine nodded to Wash’s offer and let the helmeted man begin the process of pulling tiny bits of ripped fabric from the larger man’s leg.

“Right, why the fuck do we have to wear these?” South shouted, plopping down onto the forest floor and tugging at her heels.

“I agree with South. These aren’t proper footwear for battle. Though they do make my legs look amazing!” York sang, lifting up his skirt a little to show just a bit more thigh and his very useless garter belts. Seriously he had no socks, what was the point of garter belts?

Wow, Wash really did not need to know he liked Garter Belts, good going York.

“Those shoes are a standard part of the Princess Protector’s uniform; one cannot simply remove them!” Amora insisted.

“Really? Then why does Washington get to keep his helmet my dear?” Wyoming asked, as he shook random glitter from his hair.

“It was a mistake, one that cannot be remedied without removing the Gease, as such it will remain.”

“Oh Fuck you.”

“That was not very kind Miss South.”

“I ain’t a Miss.”

“And that was not proper grammar.” North said lightly.

“Oh what you’re on its side now?” South exclaimed.

“No. I just wanted to have you shout at me.”

“Sarcasm suits you bro.”

“Thank you I learned from the best.”

“Ok now you’re just trying to make me feel good.”

“Guys!” Carolina shouted at the twins, and whacked them on the back of the head. “Focus! We are making horrible time as is, we cannot be delayed more by your bickering.”

“Oh you loved it when York and me were bickering two days ago, what changed?” South asked, her voice dropping low, to almost a purr.

“I’m not into Incest South. No one but maybe Agent Alabama is.”

“Al’s actually pretty Vanilla, it’s Wes who’s into the whole Twins Fucking deal.” Wash immediately regretted opening his mouth as all eyes turned onto him. “Uh- I uh… Uh… I didn’t- we didn’t. Shit, word?”

“You didn’t fuck them?” Florida offered.

“Yeah, Just, walked in on them. They were getting uh… Word.”

“Loud?” York offered.

“No. Uh, it’s… it’s.”

“Wash I gave you a dictionary program! Use it!” South called as she tossed a stone at his helmet.

“Oh right!” Wash quickly pulled up the program and scrolled through for a few seconds. “Descriptive! That’s it! They were getting descriptive!”

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared and Wash could feel his grip on the English language fleeing in terror again.

“Jesus.” York whispered. “They get pretty detailed with everything; I can’t imagine… I don’t want to imagine!”

“Gross. Gross! Ugh! No way am I even looking at that asshole again!” North exclaimed while South muttered darkly about ripping Agent West Virginia limb from limb in the sparing room. Sadly, all Wash could think when he heard that was how Wes would probably enjoy that….

 

**Present time**

 

“Uh? Dude?”

“Huh?” Wash jolted upright.

“You stopped talking after Carolina made that weirdly sexual comment about incest, what gives?”

“… I am not going to give an answer for that. Let’s just move on.”

“Ok, so what happened after you guys stopped flirting?”

“Stopped? Grif, we never, ever, stopped flirting. It was a constant in Project freelancer. Like a second skin. Besides the flirting is important.”

“How could horrible flirting be important?”

“Just fucking listen will you?”

 

**Back in time**

 

“Excuse me? What on earth are you talking about?” Amora asked, scanning the faces, and helmet, of those present.

“You- You don’t have a concept of flirting?” Carolina of all people asked, very confused.

“What sort of sad, sad existence do you live monster cat thing?” North asked, dramatically clutching the skin revealed in his boob window.

“A life without flirting? Does that mean no sex?”

“I’m sorry, but what is sex?”

“Ooooh boy. York you opened this can of worms, so it’s your job to explain.” Wash said, tripping York as he danced by to reach Carolina. York fell flat on his face right in front of Amora who cocked her head to the side.

“I don’t understand?”

“Ah, well, see unlike my dear, sweet, kinky little friend back there.” York jabbed a thumb back at Wash who was curling into Maine’s arms, trying to hide his face from the second hand embarrassment. “The one sitting next to that massive, wall of a man there, looking at you Maine!”

“Fuck. You.” Maine growled, but it was a playful growl, Wash had learned that one shortly after the Freelancer Video Game tourney. It meant Maine was in a good mood, and a good mood meant some good cuddles. But then the stockings that he had ripped reformed on his legs and began to pinch his prosthetic again which made him turn and glare down at the offending fabric and growl.

“Name a time and place!”

“York!” Carolina shouted.

“Oh right! So, unlike my helmeted friend, and colleague over there I have little shame in explaining the intimacies of life.”

Wyoming snorted.

“Intimacies. Ha!”

“Hey! Let me finish here! Anyways sex is- “

 

**Back in the present**

 

“You’re totally fucking with me. You have to be fucking with me!”

“Not at all.”

“Why the hell were we so scared of you guys? You were a bunch of sex crazed assholes!”

“To be fair our jobs were far more stressful than it is now and it was a good way to blow off steam and build team dynamics.”

“Is that what you told the Director?”

“No! That’s what we told the Counselor.”

“Jesus fuck dude, and you gave some other worldly being the sex talk?”

“York did. With some colorful commentary from Wyoming, Florida and South, though South really only wanted to talk about gay sex and gave one very colorful description of the vagina.”

“And how the fuck did that thing respond?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

 

**Back in Time**

 

“You what?!”

“Yup.” South cooed.

“For fun?” Amora gasped eyeing the group with fear and disgust.

“If we weren’t at war, we’d do it for reproduction to! Little bouncing babies as far as the eye could see! I would just love to be called Daddy one day!”

“You already do Florida.” Carolina said. “If what I heard two weeks ago was anything to go by.”

“I mean non-sexually Carolina dear, do I need to give you another lesson in proper methods of insult?”

“Stop it! I will not have such vulgarity associated with our protectors at all! You are all supposed to be pure of heart! Not defiled or… or…”

“Sexed. Up?” Maine offered and Amora gagged.

“Yes. That.”

“Hey, fuck you man, get with the times. Just cause you had sex doesn’t mean you can’t be “pure”, whatever that means. The idea that any form of purity is connected to sex is an outdated concept and a misogynistic one.” Wash said, flipping off Amora for what was likely the seventeenth time that day.

“What?” Amora spat, confusion still evident in her voice.

“The idea that women are only considered pure before they have had sex is an old concept used as a means of controlling women into being subservient to men. You, by perpetuating that idea, are saying that girls and women that you could have had fighting for you, are worthless because they decided to have sex, or, in some unfortunate cases, were forced into it.” Wash explained as Maine ripped his stockings off again in the hopes of keeping the material out of his leg.

“You get. Eloquent when. Riled.” Maine teased, digging his fingers into a sweet spot on Wash’s side, which earned him a tiny squeak.

“Maine!”

“Oooo? I didn’t know he had buttons!” York exclaimed, at this point it was obvious he was playing up his sex drive in an effort to get a rise out of Amora.

“Enough! It’s nothing like that! The magic- “

“Is bullshit.” North spat. “Face it. We ain’t “pure” we’re soldiers. You said your magic couldn’t work on anyone who wasn’t a pre-pubescent girl and I sure as hell ain’t developing boobs right now. Not now, or ever again!”

“You’re a girl?”

“You want to fucking say something to my bro, tiny?” South was immediately on her feet and advancing on Amora as Maine, once again ripped off the stockings that kept reforming. “Cause _he_ is amazing. He is the best _man_ in this fucking team you want to say something I’ll… I’ll.”

South had remembered that they couldn’t actually harm Amora, but still furious, as she always got when anyone tried to misgender North, decided to try anyways, and decided to do so… Differently.

South reached down and yanked off her shoe. The heel immediately caught fire and he beaned it at Amora, who sat still not concerned in the slightest. The heel disintegrated as it came close to Amora, but didn’t reappear on South’s foot.

“Wait? It was that easy?!” Wash shouted as Wyoming silently shucked his heels and tossed them at Amora who was slowly realizing the mistake she had made.

She had given these assholes an inch, and by fucking God they were going to take the whole shitty mile. Soon everyone was shucking off their shitty heels and were throwing them at Amora. York cackled as his turned to dust and Carolina even chuckled while Maine growled gutturally as his stockings reformed and continued to pinch his leg.

 

**Present time**

 

“Carolina? Chuckle? I call Bullshit.”

“Just fucking listen ok?”

“I still don’t see how flirting is important.”

“Just listen!”

 

**Back in time**

 

With the offensive heels gone and Amora properly shocked the team began to move again. They moved in silence until Amora told them she had to sleep for the night, so if they wanted to keep going they would have to carry her.

Really they all didn’t want to so it went something like this.

“We could carry you. Or, we could stop for the night and have a fun, sweaty orgy.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Or you could sleep and we can keep moving.” Carolina said.

“But you have to be tired!”

“Oh we are. Tired of your bullshit.” North hissed.

“Fine! I am tired of dealing with you lot anyways. I will catch up in the morning!”

Amora had curled up then and there on the forest floor and the team moved forward. After several hours of hiking in silence York finally spoke.

“Right so, I take it you all got an idea of what I’m cooking?”

“I think so. You want to gross the thing out so much that it releases us from this stupid Gease thing and we can take this whole, “mission” on, our way.” Wash said.

“Yup! We just need the right thing to do it.”

“It’s pretty lost in the past. Maybe, that orgy isn’t such a bad idea after all?” Wyoming offered.

“Hun, you are always up for an Orgy.” Florida quipped.

“Yes my dear, but think about it. It was very confused and disgusted by out mere mentioning of sex, perhaps we can use this to our advantage?”

“I see what you’re getting Wyoming, but we need proper set up. It can’t’ just be some random orgy in the woods, it has to be timed just so.”

“I think I know when to do it.” York said, bouncing up to Carolina who was in deep thought. “Trust me, I’ll get us going!”

Wash side-eyed Maine who shrugged and grumbled as the stockings that he had ripped re-appeared once more.

 

**Present time**

 

“So what? You guys planned an orgy?”

“Not… Quite…”

“Fucking hell dude, just tell me, I’m down the rabbit hole already.”

“You sure? I mean, I would not mind stopping- “

“Fuck that, just finish your stupid story.”

 

**Back in time**

 

The opportunity to give Amora the show of a life time didn’t come for several days. Apparently through the trials of accidental flashings, attempts at setting random shit on fire, freezing random bugs, and the accidental creation of Pot brownies curtesy of Florida trying to conjure up… something, no one was sure what exactly, there was no good time to catch Amora off guard.

So the shenanigans of York learning that he could change probability and subsequently going on a nearly self-destructive adrenaline high, South and Maine singing an old rendition of a 21st century Disney song that no one liked to North and getting frozen for their troubles. And the introduction of another Disney classic from the 21st century to Carolina’s life involving fish and missing children, and so many more shenanigans all happened. But those weren’t the focus of this story.

Finally, after days of quiet they were attacked again by more hell beasts. This time as we began to fight York jumped out in front of the two opposing groups and held up a hand.

York cleared his throat, a brilliant mischievous smile on his face as he turned to Florida.

“Hey, so, that guitar has a repeat song setting right?”

“I do believe so, why perchance?”

“Mind playing us a little diddy we all know and love in the Guest room?” York asked wiggling his eye brows funny. Florida caught on quick and gave a wide pleasant smile.

“Why my, dear, I’d be happy to!” Florida said, pulling out the instrument and plucking on of the strings as York turned back to the enemies.

“This one’s for you Hell Beasts! We recently heard you’ve never seen a strip tease before, and we decided, why not give you the full show?” York smirked as the heavy beat began to fill the clearing.

“Let’s get it started now!”

York, was a master of the seduction walk, not nearly as good as Wyoming or South but still damned good. And he seductively walked straight to Maine and began to run his hands slowly down the sides of the other man’s face. York licked his lips as he moved his hand down the sides of Main’s dress, toying with the seams that seemed ready to burst. He slowly began to circle Maine, who had picked up what was happening and was standing with his legs spread and hips cocked just so. York finally reached from behind Maine his hands falling on the thin Stockings. One hand gripped the stockings right at Maine’s bulge, the other held the edge of his skirt firmly.

The beat dropped and York yanked off the stockings with one hand, and the other lifted up the skirt. As the stockings went off Maine’s underwear went with it, revealing his impressive penis to the hell beasts who stood still and confused at the turn of events. In the distance Amora was shouting.

“What are you doing?!” York laughed as Maine turned on him and began to spin the two of them slowly. He lifted York up into the air who struck a pose and slowly removed one of his shoulders from his dress.

Slowly, steadily, the rest of the crew began their own strip dances. Wash and North went together, doing something of a fast and upbeat salsa as they removed more and more of their costumes. Wyoming and Florida were being more, aggressively seductive in their dance, both pawing and raving for each other’s skin. Carolina and South moved from each other to helping everyone else and soon, in broke down into everyone undressing everyone and tossing clothing at the hell beast who were now enthralled by it all.

Then Maine grabbed a mostly naked Wash, lifted up his helmet enough to expose his lips, and began to kiss him, oh so thoroughly. There was even a bit of tongue and Wash was not complaining in the slightest! And oh there was another set of lips on his back now, working kisses down his spine and he knew the feeling of those eyelashes, that was Wyoming.

Soon the dance was breaking down into one giant hot make-out session and the hell beast were moaning and cheering them on while Amora screamed in the background. They didn’t hear her really, not until right as Wash was sure Maine was gonna actually give his boner some attention…

“That’s it! I’m done! You are all done! I tried to be reasonable but you lot are simply irredeemable! I release you lot of your Gease! I’m Done! Now leave this place! I- I… What?” As soon as Amora had said that she had released the Gease, the music had stopped and the hell beasts had ceased in their hooting and hollering. The entire squad was grinning maniacally at Amora.

“Oh, there we go. Who wants first- “A gun shot cut York off and Amora screamed and slumped over, blood oozing from the bullet wound in her head. “Dibs. Alright I’ll give it to you North.”

“Fucker can kiss my ass.” North hissed, turning to the Hell beasts, clad in nothing but his boxers and wielding a rifle. “Now these assholes…”

North raised his gun. “Well someone else might want to act fast before I take them.”

“Fuck that!” South shouted, pulling up her own gun out of… somewhere. Wash was willing to be it was in her bra somewhere. And shot all of the beasts in one go.

After a moment of silence there was a laugh from York.

“Do I have good timing or what?”

 

So after spending a few hours, mostly naked, trying to get back their armor the Freelancers managed to get back both their armor and all of their weapons, much to the relief and joy of North, who expressed such joy through loud shouting and dancing, and discovered that they still had their “powers” when Wash went to lean on a tree and suddenly found the fucking parasol in his hands.

“Seriously? The fucking umbrella is back? I thought it’d go away after we killed the little monster thing!”

“We still. Need to kill. Evil monster.” Maine supplied from beside Wash. He was close enough that Wash could hear him practically purring.

“I’d be more inclined to believe you and be ok about that if I hadn’t been left hanging.” There was a light tink sound as Maine’s helmet gently hit his in a form of helmet on helmet kiss.

“Later. At Base.”

“Hey you Love-birds let’s get a move on!” South called from up ahead.

“Hey, South? You still fire?” Wash asked, silently cursing when he realized he had skipped a few words in that sentence.

“What? No! We killed the beast I can’t- Fuck! Forest fire!” There were some heavy sighs from North who, reluctantly put out the flames as he caught up.

“So it looks like we still have the powers, but not the outfits. Fine by me.”

 

**Present Time**

 

“So. You guys got your gear back by killing the monster thing, after you pissed it off enough to release you by nearly having an orgy.”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck was Project Freelancer?”

“I ask myself that same question every day.”

 

**Back in time**

 

The travel from then on was quick and simple… ish. They actually had no clue where they were going, but lucky for them Wash apparently served as a compass, which only pointed towards the final boss. This fact was discovered when they had gotten lost in some mountains.

“Guys, seriously? We’re going in fucking circles!”

“Shut up Wash, it’s not like you know where we’re going either!” South called.

“I dare say, with your sense of direction, you are more lost than the rest of us!” Wyoming quipped and Wash snorted.

“Haha. No seriously, we’ve passed the same ridge line three times.”

“Ok Wash if you are so directionally savvy, why don’t you lead us then?” Carolina huffed and Wash hissed back.

“Sure! Why not?” Wash huffed as he turned 90 degrees to the left and started walking through the short underbrush of the windswept alpine plain. Everyone shrugged and followed.

“He’s totally going to get us lost.”

“Just let him go, I know where we were South we’ll get back on track soon.” North said.

After an hour of trekking they crested a peak and…

“Well I’ll be shitfaced. That’s a very cartoonishly evil castle out there.” York said, squinting into the distance.

“Jesus fuck dude, how did you know?” North asked.

“Indeed, how?” Wyoming asked, and Wash shrugged.

“We walked past the same shit so many times I decided to say fuck it, pick a direction and walk.”

“So you guessed.” Carolina asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“So what you’re a compass now?”

“Shut up North.”

“No seriously if we dropped you off in the middle of this fucking weird place would you be able to find this fucking castle again?” North asked.

“Maybe? I don’t know! I got lucky!”

“Luck’s my thing now Wash, not yours. I think you are a compass.”

“Well fuck you to York.”

“Very nice. Compass.”

“Damnit Maine why?!”

 

**Present time**

 

“So… Did they ever forget that?”

“No. I had to live with the compass jokes forever. Carolina still makes them occasionally.”

“But it was just a coincidence right?”

“No. They tested it. Knocked me out, dropped me in a random place with a note to find the fucking castle and I did, every time.”

“And you got on our asses about wasting time when you assholes were doing that!”

“Why do you think I got on your asses? It was obnoxious and I just wanted out of the fucking place!”

“Right so, you guys walked all the way to the castle then what?”

“Well, it was heavily guarded, and we had limited ammo with us so we didn’t want to fight everyone, so we got creative. Remember those Pot Brownies Florida made by accident?”

“Holy fuck. How high was everyone?”

“Higher than an Astronaut.”

 

**Back in time**

 

With the guards all chilled out and preoccupied with their highs it was relatively easy to sneak into the castle. Sure the damned thing was a twisting and winding maze, but they had time (sort of) and the pure rage to not care in the slightest.

It took several hours of wandering before the crew finally reached the throne room. And there, on the throne was…

A near replica of Amora, only black.

“Welcome heroes to my- “the Not Amora paused and squinted at the crew. “Who are you? You’re not the Princess Protectors!”

“No, we’re Pissed off and fucking done. Are you the big bad that little White shit said we needed to kill to go home?” South asked.

“I- Yes! I am the King of Evil! But where is my sister Amora? She should have brought you here through many trials!”

“We killed her.” Carolina stated.

“North Killed her. We had an almost Orgy.” York corrected with a smirk.

“You… killed her? How? Your morals should prevent you from doing so! And if she must she has the Gease!”

“All together now!” York sang.

“We’re military! We don’t have morals!” The crew sang and York giggled as Carolina rolled her eyes.

“How long have you wanted us to do that?”

“Since I first said it back in the first act.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

“So… does this mean that you wish to join me?” The King of Evil seemed optimistic but cautious.

“No.” South said simply. “We want to go home.”

The King of Evil’s tentative smile fell to a bored look.

“Right that means you must defeat me. Then I won’t go easy.”

“Neither will we. Aim!” The entire crew raised their guns and the King of Evil paled.

“W-wait! You mean to shoot me?”

“Of course! How else do you think we will kill you?” Florida sang. “After all. You and your late sister made a point of kidnapping young girls, forcing them into sexual outfits, and using them as child soldiers! Now we may not have morals, but the establishment we work for does and if we walked away from the opportunity to kill the mastermind behind such crimes? Why we would be in so much fucking trouble!”

The King of Evil gulped as there was a chorus of guns being cocked. As the creature opened its mouth to speak a hail of bullets tore through him and he fell over in a pile of bloody flesh.

“Well. That was easy.” York said as the world suddenly turned white once more.

 

**Back in the present**

 

“So was that it?” Grif asked confused.

“Sort of. We all arrived back at the scene of the earlier firefight and agreed to classify what happened as White-Ops between us. According to 479er we hadn’t been off comm long enough to cause a panic so we played it off like we had gone silent to ensure that we weren’t followed or bugged.” Wash explained placing a hand over his helmet.

“So if you killed the fuckers that did that why do you still…”

“Change? We don’t know. We found out by accident during another mission when Wyoming got Snarky at Florida and used his transformation activation phrase as a joke. Florida transformed mid mission and…” Wash shivered involuntarily. “A pissed off Florida is not a good memory.”

“Jesus dude. That sounds shitty. So why’d you change while we were ransacking the Merc’s base?”

Wash sat in silence for a second before sucking in a breath and muttering.

“I can actually function as a sort of… person… compass… I was hoping to find Felix or Locus so we could ambush them. They weren’t there though so it was… uh…” Wash scrambled to find the right word but Grif just nodded.

“Useless?”

“Yes!” Wash said. “So I transformed and put up with that shitty, strip dance for nothing.”

“Oh I don’t know dude, probably wasn’t all for nothing!” Grif said with an uncharacteristically large smile. It was a genuine one to, the kind of genuine one he got when he had just done something really, really shitty that he thought was hilarious.

“Grif, what did you do?”

“Oh I didn’t have to do anything! You did this yourself, because you didn’t ever check behind you~” Grif sang as he began to snicker.

Wash froze and slowly turned around, and to his horror he found Caboose standing there without his helmet looking excited and confused.

“Caboose!”

“Hi Agent Washington! I heard your story and it was so cool! This means you are a princess hero!” Caboose shouted excitedly, his voice echoing out the mess hall.

“Caboose no! You are not going to talk about this! Grif!”

“Hey I’m not the one who kept talking! You dug this grave yourself!”

“Oh! Oh! Tucker would love to hear about this! He keeps talking about how he wants to see you in a dress!” Grif couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and started laughing out loud. He got so caught up in his laughing that he keeled over onto the floor and just kept laughing.

“Holy fuck dude! Holy Fuck! Yeah, you should tell him Caboose!”

“No! Guys! Think about if Caro- “

“What was your phrase again?” Grif asked between laughs.

“Grif.” Wash said, his voice dangerous as he rose to his feet and prepared to pounce.

“Oh yeah! Pretty, Parasol Power!”

With a shout Wash leapt at Grif, light enveloping him as he did so. As he collided with Grif he emerged from the light back in his stupid loin cloth skirt dress, and parasol in hand. Wash pinned the laughing Grif to the ground and began to whack him with the parasol as Caboose gasped behind him.

“Tucker! Did you see? Did you see? Wash is a princess!” Wash froze once more.

“Yeah I saw Caboose; he can be my princess any day!”

“Goddamnit!” Wash shrieked hiding his head in his hands as Grif continued to laugh on the ground beneath him.

“Holy fuck dude, you really got screwed over!”

“Fuck you! If Carolina finds out, or if you even mention this around her she’s gonna flip!”

“Why? We don’t even know how to make her transform!” Grif asked.

“I’d like to transform you wash! In the bedroom. Bow-Chick-Bow-wow!”

“Damnit Tucker!”

“Hey come on!” Grif said, sliding out from under Wash. “Lighten up, seriously I don’t think any of us are going to try and pull this on Carolina, so don’t get your fucking panties in a bunch.”

“Fuck you!” Wash hissed.

“Dude how do you even change back?” Grif asked as Tucker walked up and began to play with the dress.

“you have to destroy the fucking thing. So unless you don’t mind starting a fire in the mess hall I suggest you help me find some way to-” There was a loud ripping sound as the dress was ripped off Wash and fell to pieces. All heads turned behind him to find a pissed off looking Carolina holding the tattered and quickly disintegrating remains of the dress in her hands. She to lacked her helmet and everyone got tense as she glared at them. But Wash knew that look, Carolina wasn’t pissed, she was amused, but trying to help. So it was fake.

“Right assholes, that’s enough!” Epsilon said. “Let’s break it up before Carolina decides to kill you to.”

“Yeah, ok. I can get behind that!” Grif said scurrying away.

“And you better not tell anyone!” Epsilon shouted.

“I won’t you fuck!”

“Right so now that, that’s done, how about we move along to somewhere more private.” Tucker said, grabbing Wash and dragging him away as Wash meekly protested. Carolina turned to Caboose as the two other men left to go fuck and sighed.

“Right, Caboose?”

“Yes Carolina?”

“Don’t tell anyone about that ok?”

“Ok I won’t!”

“No, I want to hear you promise me, remember that special promise song I taught you?” Carolina prompted and Caboose nodded.

“I promise! I promise! I promise like pretty pictures, I promise! Sure as Sharks, I promise!” Caboose sang and Carolina smiled.

“Go- “

“Oh! I messed up! Sure as Shiny Shark,”

“Caboose no!”

“Power, promise!”

“Hey uh, Carolina? You got a bit of uh… shark teeth there.”

“Shut up Epsilon and help me destroy this stupid outfit!”

“Sure thing Sharky.”

“Fuck you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Glad you made it to the end of this roller coaster of a fic! I had a blast writing this little diddy and I am proud to release it to the public for your enjoyment or cringing pleasure. It does take place in the same universe as my Freelancer Fictional Fighting Tourney fic, so if you want to read that one it's over on my page! I wrote this one for the RvB Big Bang event, and the lovely Ashleystlawrence designed the magical girl costumes! You can find those here. http://ashleystlawrence.tumblr.com/post/157598555771/so-frist-up-in-with-my-big-bang-art-for


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